1108

First year of incarceration almost over. The yard is frozen as was my face. Tomorrow things back to normal. I don’t really get into things here, a # of reasons, why bore you & why let you into the secret, criminals are stupid. Well, the ones who get caught. I’m amazed at the ones who narc on each other. Unsolicited. Just wander up to the desk, blah blah. Or the guy a few cells over asks a CO, “do I seem gay?” How stupid can one be? But a # of days ago a few of us sitting around the table drinking coffee. One is reading a book on the “Enforcer”. I ask if he read “Brutal”. He did. Matter of fact he’s from the area & was in one of those gangs from there. We talk a while. He’s got like 15 years. Mentioned he dealt coke. Was the reason for all this time. No robbed a bank vault. He got $7,500. Did he get away with it? He did it because his kid was losing his home. There are a lot of justifications for crime. Both good & bad. I have to admit here’s someone I respect fully. The kind of guy you want living in your unit. Like my buddy Aaron. Smart. Great talent in leather, beading. All around solid guy who lost way too much of his life here. I told him today he’s truly someone who got fucked. He’s remaining positive. Turning 30 doesn’t look or seem a day over 23. A rarity to remain so clear headed. You have to pick or choose in here or you learn how to make silk purses out of sow’s ears.

Enjoy the eve?
I was in bed by 11. Listened to Emmy Lou Harris.
This book ( I Celebrate Myself ) & the life of Ginsberg is amazing. When you think about all the social, political, poetic changes because of him. From his relationship to WC Williams, Ezra Pound, Neal Cassidy, Kerouac, Robert Frank, Bob Dylan, The Beatles, on & on. His travels. His openness. Support of young poets. His lust. How he would exist in these times. This is one of those rare books that you welcome distractions. Slow down take your time reading. An inspiration. By Bill Morgan. I think he wrote one about Gregory Corso. Reading in here is strange. I really focus on my failure then I get to his travels to Cuba where he has an affair (one-night) with a 17yr old. Castro’s Cuba. Not only is he with some one under age in a communist country but it’s 1965. Now, he’d be in prison for life.

Just finished a little thing with 3 poems. BARREN-poise-swill. I have no idea what to think of it. It was nice to write. Layout. I’m in a vacuum here. No one to discuss much. Definitely not poetry. Everyday I think I’ll never write again then something kicks my foot & another poem. It’s rather consistent. I just don’t know what to think. Get it? There are some nice lines I have to admit & I’ll end with a section from BARREN

why I could

named his mouse, soup
kept a yr
every shakedown
knew where to hide

how many yrs later
we sit, imagine
our hero
smaller than glove
more important than cap

we sit serene
surmise he’s
dead.


The “why I could” is a series of poems that play with the notion & early poem in series, “why I don’t fuck in prison”
As strange as one might think, sex is an odd character within. And my boss told me the story of soup.

Just got Ron Padgett’s New & Selected poems. Super. If you haven’t gotten it get it. & thank you.

I’ve never liked January. I can’t imagine it being much better in here. Then again I have experienced some amazing things I wish you could touch my temples and all this could/would be revealed.
Yeah?

Oh & this is not a blog. It’s a blot. From a distance. Up close it’s scribble. A night time drool. Never certain & rarely smooth. Though I remain. Here. & you, there. How far? You to decide.

To a good year. Later.